


Unicorn Boys

by greenteakitkat



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, First Time, M/M, Mikey is a vulnerable little bean, Pete is a total fuckboy, Phone number in a library book, Social Anxiety, Starbucks, captain-of-the-ships, falloutlola
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:16:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenteakitkat/pseuds/greenteakitkat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just two gay authors' insights into what the summer of like could have been for Pete and Mikey if either of them had GROWN SOME FUCKING BALLS. i mean, a petekey au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unicorn Boys

Mikey Way wasn’t the type of person to receive phone calls from unknown numbers. Hell, he wasn’t even the type of person to receive phone calls, period. He spent most of his life with his cell phone either off or lost somewhere in the depths of his sock drawer or an equally arbitrary place (–on several occasions, Mikey had gone to the microwave to heat up some pot noodles and found his phone sitting in there). When he actually managed to remember that he had a phone, the most exciting calls he received were notifications about new issues of Doom Patrol from his brother, Gerard, passed on by Gerard’s absolutely-not-a-boyfriend, Frank, and if Gerard wasn’t talking to said not-boyfriend, Mikey would occasionally get awkward ‘thought you ought to know’ calls directly from Frank. But that was basically the extent of Mikey Way’s communication with the outside world. So, when he heard his phone ringing and the words ‘unknown number’ flashed up at him from the screen, he wondered briefly if he was dreaming. After a pinch to the arm to confirm that this was reality, Mikey was left rather unsure what he was supposed to be feeling. What was the protocol? He didn’t want to get all worked up and terrified over the prospect of human contact only to find that the caller on the other end was a recorded message of some dude from Utah who wanted to sell him double glazing.

Mikey pondered if Jehovah’s Witnesses could phone you. Knowing his luck, every cult in the country probably had his number down.

A little part of him hoped that the person on the other end of the line was a tall, dark, handsome stranger, come to take him away from his dull and boring life, but in reality, of course it was going to be a nasally voiced fifty year old woman, _disturbingly_ interested in talking about our saviour and the Promised Land (so glorious it required a capital letter at the start).

It wasn’t till a few very long seconds later that Mikey realised that the phone was still ringing, and he was still just standing frozen, staring at it blankly. All the time he’d been worrying about what would happen after he picked up the phone, he’d forgotten to worry about what was going to happen _while_ he picked up the phone. What if it blew up from disuse? What if– what if–

Mikey gave his brain a little jab and tried to override the anxiety. He was too fucking empty to pass up an opportunity to do something – _anything_ – other than sitting like a lump in front of the TV all day. Luckily, his shaking fingers had tapped answer button before he could really think about it. Maybe it was his fingers that had dreamed about his tall handsome stranger and had picked up for him in hope that his true love would answer… But could fingers even dream? Could they send thoughts up to his brain? Mikey sighed. What the fuck was he thinking? He must have forgotten his meds this morning.

“Hello?” A static-drowned voice snapped Mikey back into the reality of the fact that he’d been keeping his tall, dark, handsome stranger waiting. (And he just knew that it was him; the voice didn’t sound like Gerard’s or Frank’s, or anything like the dull drone of a salesman.)

“Uh. That’s probably cos I’m not a salesman,” the voice on the other end said disconcertedly after a pause. Mikey fought the urge to swear. Accidently speaking his thoughts often got him into trouble, and this didn’t look like it was going to be an exception to the rule. It turned out that that did actually happen in real life, and wasn’t just a convenient and lazy excuse for a plot reveal used by amateur authors when they were running out of ideas. The unfamiliar voice returned, this time in a lighter tone. “Unless I’m selling pot,” he quipped smartly. But the casualness immediately dissipated as the man realised how incriminating that could sound. “Though, um, I don’t do that either. Just in case you happen to be a policeman.”

“Oh,” Mikey mumbled. “No, I’m not a policeman. I just. Um. Who else would, like, call my phone?” He cringed at his own inability to uphold the most basic of conversations, and in tensing up, he managed to knock a (mercifully empty) coffee cup from its perch on the edge of his bunkbed to the ground. He jumped at the clatter that came from its collision with the wooden floor, then proceeded to make an even bigger crashing sound himself as he toppled off the bed after it. (He seemed to have a knack for losing all sense of balance every time he got anxious. It was not a helpful quality.) At this point he didn’t hesitate to swear, and he only ceased his hissed string of curses when the man on the other end of the phone whistled appreciatively.

“Nice swearing,” the stranger mused, and Mikey stared at his phone and poked it, astounded that it had survived the fall. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard the words ‘mothercunt’, ‘fucknugget’ and ‘coffee’ in the same sentence before. Ten out of ten for originality, I’ll give you that. What d’ya knock over?”

“My cup,” Mikey scowled. “Then I fell off the bed.”

“Sounds like you fell pretty hard, man.”

“It’s a bunk bed,” Mikey explained with a grimace. “I was on the top.”

“Oh, so you’re a top? And here I was about to offer to kiss it better.”

“Thanks. Really appreciate the gesture, pal. Now, would you care to share how the hell you got my number?"

“Well, I don’t know about sharing anything, I barely know you!” the man said in a mock-surprised voice, as if he was _horrified_ by the sheer _indecency_. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t mind sharing my bed with you…”

Mikey could hear the fuckboy smirk in his voice, and had to fight the urge to track this kid down with one of those GPS stalking apps and whack him over the head with one of the Playboys Mikey just _knew_ he would have hidden under his mattress. But he resisted, settling for moderate sensibility rather than breaking and entering, and rolled his eyes.

The man laughed easily. “Don’t be scared, kiddo,” he grinned, mistaking Mikey’s apathetic sigh for a shy silence. “I found your number in a library book, with a lovely little note saying– and I quote– ‘Call me, smiley face, xoxo’. So, being the generous and courteous fellow I am, I kindly obliged.”

Mikey scoffed. “Sure, _courteous_. What book was this, exactly?”

“I think it was about mythical beasts or some shit… Can’t really remember.”

Mikey frowned. “I think I checked that out a while ago for my brother… How the fuck did my number get in it?” He paused, and his frown deepened. “And why the hell were you looking at a mythical beasts book?”

“Well, I had to find _something_ to jerk off to, didn’t I?” the man said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh god,” Mikey groaned. “I really don’t want to know,” he said truthfully. Well, mostly truthfully.

Well. It was a complete lie.

Perhaps a little part (a slightly oversized little part) of his human-contact-starved mind _was_ morbidly interested, but that didn’t mean he was going to carry on talking to the stranger. It wasn’t like Mikey saved the number in his contacts after he hung up. It wasn’t at all like his heart started fluttering and his hands started shaking when the number flashed on the screen again later that day. And it absolutely wasn’t like Mikey tripped up trying to answer his phone as quickly as possible. No, of course not. He was sensible. He didn’t have a crush on Library Dude. He hadn’t given the man a dumb nickname like Library Dude. Nope, Mikey was not attracted to this guy at all.


End file.
